Dark Horse
by Silver Fyrefly
Summary: Takes place between Operations Impending Doom I and II. A sudden and surprise challenge to the Irken Empire’s supremacy leaves Almighty Tallest Purple alone in a spotlight he was never really sure he wanted… Rating just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Zim is not mine. Actually, he doesn't even appear here, so the Tallest are not mine. Most things are not mine. And if Invader Zim were mine, it would be going in to Season eight or something by now, so clearly the characters appearing here are not mine, and I make no monies off of them.

Author's notes: My first fic that I actually am positing somewhere! It's quite exciting for me, anyway. Of course, as of this writing, its not done yet, but most of it is laid out, so I plan to finish it. I am chronically bad at finishing fanfics (although some encouragement wouldn't hurt, see the shameless asking for reviews?).

On a more serious note, looking at this thing now, I believe these are SpeakingThroughWrittenWord's Red and Purple. Paths Intertwined is an unbelievable fic that has made me fall in love with Zim all over again and reminded me of the power of first person narration. I hope you enjoy this fic, and constructive criticism that doesn't involve flaming me would be fantastic.

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I watched the small holographic display sitting between the two of us, my shoulders hunched, fingers ready to strike. I was the general, he was my enemy. Today, we would meet in glorious war. His fingers tapped lightly at the molded plastic paneling above the control screen on his side for a moment. Then he dragged one finger down and entered a command. A tiny holographic purple tank lumbered three spaces ahead slowly on the grid...only to explode in a small poof of red smoke. I grinned. He looked up at me, purple eyes showing a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"My mine." I told him, by way of explanation to the unasked question.

"What?"

"My mine." I repeated. "You ran your tank over my mine. It blew up."

"...Oh." A small line of irritation worked its way across his brow, and he resumed staring at the display.

I never quite could figure him out. He knew the rules of Tactics just as well as I did, and yet sometimes it was like he was learning the game for the first time. And this was, what? Our sixth or seventh game that day? We were en route to Devastis for the Irken Elite graduation ceremony. Except we had been at Foodcourtia picking up snacks when the advisers reminded us we had a week until the ceremony. And Devastis isn't exactly in a convenient place. Well, convenient for the graduates coming off of Irk and Hobo 13, sure. But not convenient from Foodcourtia. There's a little planet sort of near Devastis, though. We should add it to the list of planets for Operation Impending Doom II and build a food court there as well. That way we won't have to be driving halfway across the galaxy every time we felt like having nachos.

Whatever. So we were stuck on a four-day trip to Devastis. It took us all of an hour or so to write the speech we would give. Three or four hours in the combat simulators each day to keep up skills (it would never be said that _we _were lazy) and that still left us an awful lot of hours to take up. One could only spend so much time eating and looking up planets to invade. So we were playing Tactics, that simple Irken board game designed to train budding generals that had so enthralled us as smeets. It was pretty fun, too, except I was just about to move my fighter squadron when the hologram flickered for a moment, then went out, along with both our control panels.

"Hey!" I yelled at it. "Heeeeey!" I yelled louder. It wasn't going to do me any good yelling at it, I knew that. But it made me feel better. So did hitting it. Until Purple's hand came out and grabbed my fist. So much for that.

"Well, it broke." I told him, as though that would explain everything.

"I know it broke. But hitting it is going to break it more, isn't it?"

"Probably, but then we could just go get a new one."

"Not until we get to Devastis. This is our only board."

"Really?" Just then the board came back on. "That's strange..." I mumbled to myself.

"What could just mess up the board like that just now and then go away?" he asked me.

"I don't know. Maybe a ship nearby was making a call and the signals crossed somehow?"

"That would make sense, I guess."

I got up out of my lounge chair and went over to the bridge's main viewing window. I heard him hover up behind me, but I was busy looking. There were no ships visible in the window. "Hmmm...you!" I pointed to a random technician seated to my left.

"Yes! My Tallest?" he saluted me and waited for orders. A bit overenthusiastic maybe, but whatever.

"Scan the area. See if there are any ships in the area that we can't see from the window."

He tapped a few symbols on the screen and watched the display. "Nothing that appears here, my Tallest. There's a weird belt of radiation of some kind here, but it looks more like a drifting flare from a nearby star than anything made by a ship. And..." he was interrupted by a loud beeping noise coming from the display.

"What is it?" Purple asked.

"We're picking up a distress beacon, sir. It looks..." he squinted at the display. "It looks like it's from an Irken ship, sir. A small fighter."

"A fighter?" I repeated.

Purple looked confused. "A fighter couldn't be all the way out here, could it?" He looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. "Not without a...a frigate or something to go back to. It doesn't have enough fuel."

"Probably why its stranded. But why would a fighter be stranded all the way out here?"

A pilot behind me coughed hesitantly.

Purple turned around and looked at him. "What is it?" he asked.

"My Tallest, the fighter in question is just off a little to our side. We can see it if we magnify the viewing window." The technician we had been speaking to did just that. Far to the right, in the lower area of the view screen, a small fighter was drifting in space. It wasn't as old as a Voot, but it looked like it was in bad shape. Its markings were covered in burn residue, but I guessed it was a second-generation Spaurk or a third-generation Wheiz. Two of the three engine ports were sparking slightly.

"It's small enough to fit in our docking hanger. If we were to change course now, we could pull it in, my Tallest." The pilot said. Of course we could pull it in, I knew that. But it bothered me that such a small ship was out here by itself. Still, if there was an Irken inside, still alive, then we should rescue our soldier. But what Irken would be out here? Maybe it had been out here a long time, and the pilot was dead. If that was the case, then we should at least retrieve his Pak for the control brains. But still... it seemed strange. I looked at my co-ruler.

Part of the trick of ruling together was to make sure that no one could understand our communication signals. We had to appear to be on the same page, in agreement, at all times. His shoulders flexed in a hardly perceptible shrug and he darted his eyes towards me. So it was my decision. I figured it would be. The empire's spacecraft were my specialty. The academies and soldier training were more his arenas than weapons and battle tactics, and even then he usually preferred to have my input on the more difficult decisions. Most Irkens at that time seemed to think that of the two of us, I was the one in charge. Most of the time, they were probably right. If only he had made the decision this time. Then maybe things would have turned out differently.

"We need to at least see if we can retrieve their pak," I said. "Change course and pull in that fighter."

I heard the ever-present hum of the Massive's engines shift just slightly, then change back to normal. I would have probably been able to feel the vibrations through my feet, had I not been hovering. Nothing is better than the feeling of a good, powerful ship moving in tandem with you. Except maybe the afterheat of a laser gun that burns your hand, but not quite. I wondered what had happened to the soldier in that fighter. Had he been ambushed? Was he disobeying orders and deserved to be deactivated, if he was even still alive? Had he been cruising through the vacuum of space when all of a sudden the comforting murmur of the engines flowing around him changed to a lurching whine that predicted the doom of his runaway fighter? Even knowing what happened later, I still find myself wondering how that particular fighter somehow got away, unaccounted for, in the vacuum of space.

My co-ruler, of course, thought little of spacecrafts and powerful laser guns. I was never quite sure what he thought of the Irken war machine as a whole, to be honest. That's not to say he wasn't a brilliant fighter; we both were, if I do say so myself. He just didn't seem to share the same…enjoyment of violence that most Tallest have. I mean, I like to shoot things, I like ships, I like mechs. Spork did too. Miyuki, I never really knew what she thought about our army either. Maybe Purple was like her. But Purple _hates_ mechs. How can _anyone_ hate mechs? They're just so…so cool!

The fighter was almost off the view screen now. The hanger was underneath the Massive, behind most of the weapon's arrays. It had been designed that way, of course. So we could cover for any damaged fighters while they were able to dock in safety behind our weapons. Not that any of our fighters really got damaged in a fight anyway. Except this one. It didn't look like it had undergone severe laser damage. The ship itself was intact, and its life support systems were probably still working. It looked like whoever had shot that thing had shot at the engines only, for some reason content to disable the thing instead of destroying it.

"We have the fighter docked, My Tallest," said a technician behind me, breaking the silence.

"Have some medics and technicians go down to have a look then," Purple said, going back to his chair. I followed him.

"It is done, my Tallest," said the technician. "They should give us a report as soon as they open the fighter."

"Then shift our route back to Devastis," I said. "And pick up the speed a little. We don't - "

"We're picking up a foreign transmission!"

That was the first time as Tallest I had ever been interrupted by anyone. And that someone was a new, quite _short_, actually, technician off by the communications controls. He seemed to immediately realize his mistake, because his antennae dropped and he gave me a sheepish look. "M…my Tallest. I…I'm…should I put up the…transmission sir? On the screen?"

I was about to order him out the airlock when Purple said "Sure," from behind me, and gave me a warning look. I suppose it was for my own good. I had just thrown a communications tech out the airlock last week, and they took a long time to train.

The call screen lit up, and promptly filled with static. Underneath the static we could hear a few deep garbled words. The bridge was silent. Everyone watched the screen.

"Risis…_bzz bzz bzz_…Ir…_bzzz_…st…proceed." The communication cut out.

"Is that it?!" I demanded, glaring at the technician. He ran his hand along the control panel in front him, obviously trying to find the signal again.

He needn't have bothered. For several things happened at once. First, we felt the explosion. Somewhere below and behind us I guessed. So I wasn't that surprised when the technician waiting for the medic's reports in the hanger cried out, "Explosion in the hanger, sir! I think that fighter just blew up!" We didn't need him to state the obvious. Second, our communications tech found a signal. Only it wasn't the communications signal he was looking for. It was a jamming signal, sent directly at our visual systems. So the third thing, which could be counted as the second thing, but is called the third thing because of its being the immediate result of the first: said technician broke off the signal and a Vortian fleet materialized out of nowhere on our view screen where residual solar radiation had been on our scanners moments before. Fourth thing: Vortian fighters swarmed down towards our ship. And the fifth thing: the Vortian flagship began firing on us.

"Shields!" I yelled. "And send a squad down to that hanger!" Maybe I panicked. They were attacking the Massive. _No one_ attacks the Massive. No. One. And they were Vortians. Our allies! The only race possibly with enough technology and brain meats to actually challenge us, and they were attacking us! Why? And we were on the bridge. Dear sweet Irk. The bridge. Was the bridge designed for an attack? Could we withstand a boarding party? How many of those Vortian ships would we have to blow up before they broke off their attack? How long did I panic before I noticed Purple pulling at my elbow? Our eyes met. He was just as scared as I was. Probably more scared. Did I mention he _hated_ lasers?

Right. You are Tallest. Well, one of them, anyway. Think. "That boarding party is here for a reason…" I murmured, trying to work my way through this.

"We don't know why," he interjected.

"Yeah, but we have to find them and kill them,"

"Not before we figure out what they were after."

"Whatever works best."

"Red, they're firing on us. With _lasers_."

"Right. Um…" I turned to face the other Irkens on the bridge. "I want pilots to their fighters right now! One squadron make the Vortian fighters break off their attack, the others go after that flagship and go after their weapon's systems. And I want soldiers in every single one of our anti-fighter torrents!" I was knocked sideways by an explosion that rocked the whole ship. The hoverbelt probably made me fly a bit farther than I should have, but at least my chair was in my way. Pulling myself up with it, I began fumbling for the laser gun I kept in the hidden compartment in the armrest. "And move it!" I barked to the technicians. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Purple heave himself up on the other side of the bridge and began issuing the commands to seal off the bridge. Several of our bodyguards slipped in the door right before it sealed and went to cover every entrance with their guns.

Why is it that when one tries to recur an upsetting event, things seem hazy and strange? Everything seemed so out of control then. Irkens initiate. We aren't supposed to react. I heard the reports from our pilots, fighters damaged, enemies destroyed…our soldiers were effective, no doubt about it. But the wreckage of the Vortian fighters seemed to spiral into the Massive more often then not, jarring us every few seconds. Looking back on it, I don't wonder that it was probably a last-ditch effort of desperate pilots, trying to do as much damage as possible before their last breath. I'd been trained to do just as much in that situation.

The divisionary team we sent to stop the flagship was doing its job, somewhat. It was drawing off some of its fire, but we were still being jolted with large laser blasts whenever an exploding Vortian cruiser wasn't killing us. How long could our shields withstand this? At least they weren't firing near the bridge or the power core. I figured they meant to take the Massive whole, or else they would have tried a lot harder to completely destroy us.

I wasn't expecting the door by our donut barrel to break open. A loud clank followed by a hiss, and it fell open. Of course, our bodyguards raced to it and pointed guns at the door. Purple, who had been near that particular door, slipped away immediately to stand just slightly behind me. I saw his gaze drift to my gun for half an instant, as though tempted to ask for the spare he knew I had in the other side of the chair. But he must have thought it would do no good, and his weapons were in our chambers. Like he had to worry. I'd blow a hole in the head of the first Vortian that even looked at him wrong at this point. There was no one on the other side of the door. The outside shell of a small explosive rolled into the bridge as the ship lurched yet again, but there was no one there. For some reason, an Irken to my right felt it necessary to report that none of the squads combing the Massive had yet found the Vortians we guessed had been aboard that broken fighter. I would have thrown him out the broken door right then, had I not been so distracted. No matter. Our bodyguards had shoved the door shut again and locked it by that point, anyway.

Suddenly, my feet were almost thrown out from under me again by another explosion, this time much closer.

"What happened?!" I heard Purple yell…although it sounded more like a shriek to me.

"My Tallest! A large craft has broke into the ship!"

"What?" I yelled back to him. "Through the hull?!"

"Yes! It looks like they might have used a small torpedo. Auto-repair systems trying to repair the hole and restore air pressure, but the ship's in the way. If that thing moves, we'll lose pressure again!"

"Aah…" I was at a loss for words. This was absurd. First, attacking the Massive, second, ramming a ship into us? What were these Vortians thinking? Maybe fortunately, I didn't have any time to think, because the landing party we were so dreading blew a hole in the main bridge door, and Vortians flooded in, shooting left and right. I returned with a few shots of my own, until I felt the whirring of Purple's fist by my head. I turned and saw he had just knocked a Vortian out cold and was pulling an energy spear out of her fingers.

"How did she get behind me…"I started, then noticed the cloaking device around her waist. So that's where our missing Vortians were. Cloaked, they snuck up here and broke the door, and hid, waiting for the second part of the boarding party. Purple's new spear thrust over my head into another Vortian, and I quickly stood up and got on my guard again. It wasn't until I looked back on the event later that I realized how foolish I was to let the fight draw me away from Purple. I had knocked the weapon out of a Vortian's hand and knocked him down when I looked up, looking for my co-ruler, and realized how far away he was, fending off a group of Vortians trying to force their way through another door. I was about to move my way towards him when I felt the cold butt of a gun against the back of my head. My arm twitched, and I prepared to do a simple defensive movement to flip my assailant over my head where I could get to him, when I felt another hand roughly pull aside one of the panels of my pack and close on a group of wires inside. Sweet Irk. If I moved, those wires would be torn out. Was there anything an Irken could do when his enemy's hand was closed around his life-support system?

"Pur-" I started to call out, but I felt the hand give a slight tug. Damn it. I shut up. Another tug. Sighing, I relaxed my arm and dropped my gun.

"That's better, Irken Tallest." I heard his high, nasally voice right behind me. He must have been tall for a Vortian to even reach the bottom of my pak.

He spoke again. "You will be walking with me now, out this door." He then proceeded to pull on the wires, so I was forced to hover backwards to keep them from coming out. Oh Irk…what was I supposed to do? I felt cold sweat forming on the back of my neck. _Why_ wasn't anyone looking this way? Our bodyguards were good at protecting _that_ Tallest, what about _this_ Tallest?! Maybe I wasn't moving fast enough for them. Understandable, seeing as they were trying to kidnap me on my own ship. But the Vortian behind me started fumbling around on my back, before finally finding the switch that controlled my hoverbelt. I wasn't expecting it to go off suddenly, and I fell to my knees with a loud clunk. But blessed Irk, Purple heard the sound! He turned towards me, and our eyes met. I saw confusion, shock, and horror flit through his eyes at a terribly fast pace. The Vortians were dragging me one way, on the other side of the bridge behind him. our woefully single-minded bodyguards were trying to reseal the door. We stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Then I noticed a Vortian that had been hiding behind his chair sneaking up behind him, spear in hand.

"Look out!" I yelled, pointing, forgetting for a moment in my fear for him that my pak was very close to being ripped to shreds. He turned halfway around and reacted instinctively. His spider legs came bursting out of his pack and impaled the Vortian mid-strike. The spider legs naturally returned to their positions high over his back, and I saw him look in a kind of sickened wonder as blooded dripped out of the wounds. The Vortian was still struggling a little. Purple had hit him low. He would bleed out slowly. Then Purple turned back to me. How could he think about me in all this chaos, with his enemy freely bleeding onto his back and shoulders? He called out some sort of command to our bodyguards and began running for me, and a few guards that could be spared from holding the door sprinted off behind him. I felt a painful tug at my back and I was through the door. Looking up, I could see, amid the smoke and sparks coming from the damaged ceiling, a spacecraft with an entry beam extending down to meet us. They thrust me into the beam, and I felt it's suction slowly pulling me up towards the craft.

Purple flew through the door, skidded to a stop and ran two nearby Vortians with a spear. He saw me in the beam and lunged forward, reaching his hand up to grab mine, but fell just short, as I was nearly inside the ship by this time. A large, burly Vortian in the ship pulled me up and sealed the transparent hull of the ship.

"Break off now!" He growled. The ship lurched and rumbled. Between our repair systems trying to keep out space's vacuum, and its damage, it seemed stuck. But then, it slowly started to move. Through the floor, I saw Purple fumble around and pick up a large gun from a dead Vortian and aim it at the ship. I could feel us pulling out of the strong suction the Massive had this small craft in. Another instant and this hallway would be a huge suction tube, sucking anything and everything in it to their deaths, if they were still breathing. A bodyguard grabbed Purple's shoulder before he could fire. He pointed to the ceiling and began to pull him back towards the door, back to the relative safety of the bridge.

Half an instant. In that small time just before the Vortian ship broke free and the door on the bridge cut Purple off from my view, I saw him. Standing there, gun limp in his hand, Vortian still hanging from two spider legs, staring at me. A look of utter disbelief and hopelessness. There may have been tears in his eyes. He was probably trying to hold them back. Then the bridge door shut and the ship broke free and I was left with that last image burned into my mind like it was made with the searing heat of my favorite laser.

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Battle scenes are a pain to write. I don't seem to be the only one who thinks this. This thing is 8 pages long on Word. Wow. And that's just chapter one! Well, anyway, this is a cliffhanger. It's quite cruel of me, no? XD Read and review, plzkthxbye?


	2. Chapter 2

The bodyguard was bigger than me, naturally

Disclaimer: Zim is not mine. Actually, he doesn't even appear here, so the Tallest are not mine. Most things are not mine. And if Invader Zim were mine, it would be going in to Season eight or something by now, so clearly the characters appearing here are not mine, and I make no monies off of them.

Author's notes: I know, it's been over a year. I had, and still have, some grand plans for this fic, which I still intend to finish. Between school and now a summer job, I find myself with very little spare time, but I'm doing my best to finish, particularly for the reviewers who seemed to like the first Chapter so much. I intend this to be about 7 or 8 Chapters when I am done, although I might make it longer if I keep segmenting the way I do. This section was originally intended to be much longer, but it flows better if I cut it here.

Anyway, I want to thank ShadesOfMaroon, Tallest Magenta, Euphoric Asphyxiation, The Great WTF and xsweetxpandemoniumx for leaving such kind reviews, and I hope this second part is to your liking!

-This is a divider. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along…-

The bodyguard was bigger than me, naturally. Well, not _taller_. Certainly not taller. But definitely broader. He dragged me in by the shoulders and shut the airlock behind me. Then he looked at me, and seemed to just realize what he had done. He'd just manhandled his Tallest, dragged him through a door against his will and all but throwing him back into the bridge. He let go of me very quickly, and then stepped back and bowed. His eyes were probably twice their normal size by now, and he was shaking a bit. I waved him away, then glanced across the rest of the bridge. They were all silent, staring at me. Waiting. What did they expect of me? What was I supposed to do? What _could_ I do? They had him.

"They have Almighty Tallest Red," I said dumbly, quietly, numbly. "Cease fire. There's nothing we can do."

Technicians powered down our weapons panels. I saw a squadron of fighters in the main screen rejoin formation and make for our hanger. And there, just above us, heading for the Vortian flagship. It was _that_ ship. Red was there. Briefly I wondered if I should order them to fire on it. That was a bargaining chip. A very, very valuable bargaining chip that I was giving them. I raised my hand, opened my mouth, then stopped. What was there to do? What _could_ I do, besides wait? They had the better half of us. Red was the better Tallest, everyone knew that.

I became aware that the technicians were split between righting overturned chairs and settling back into their places and watching me for a command. Somehow, I managed to remember that I was still Tallest and they would be looking to me for orders. I looked away, distracted in that instant by something warm and wet sliding down my back. I shifted my spider legs to get a better look at the Vortian hanging behind me. He was dead. Which was probably a good thing. I don't think I could have interrogated him just then. I don't think I could have spoken. It was like something soft was caught deep inside my throat, and I couldn't say anything. I was choking on air, but I could still breathe.

I shook my spider legs a little, but the enemy was stuck fast. I turned my eyes to the bodyguard that had pulled me back onto the bridge. He darted forward and grabbed onto the body so I could retract the long metal weapons back into my pak. I turned away, leaving him there to hold it. If he was planning to ask me what to do with the body, I had no answer. No answers to anything, and yet I had to say _something_.

_You know what you should do._ _Irkens do not give weapons to their enemies. Irkens take weapons, and destroy weaknesses. Irkens do what is necessary._

My old lessons replayed themselves in my head. The ship was still in laser range. It was the thing to do. I was still Tallest. The loss of Red would not change that. I swallowed and opened my mouth again.

"…Damage report." I said, finally. _Weak,_ came the voice in my head. Of course I was weak. With two Tallest, and the power split between them, how was either of us supposed to be as strong as Spork or Miyuki? Except Red was. And I wasn't.

"The hole outside the bridge is stabilized, but we are sending repair drones to the area to repair the area proper before soldiers enter the area. Three fighters have minor laser damage. The other forty-two show no damage. Fighters utilized twenty-four percent of total torpedoes carried. They are being reloaded from our stores as we speak. Sixteen soldiers have been lost defending the bridge. The party of twelve sent to investigate the hanger were lost in the explosion. The technicians in the hanger have not been accounted for. We are awaiting further details."

I let the information wash over me. The losses were not catastrophic, but the damage to our pride was significant. If Red were here, he would have said something to cheer our soldiers, make them certain that there would be complete and absolute victory. I was not Red. I could not be cheerful.

"I am returning to my chambers," I said. "Care for the wounded, rearm, and repair all damages. If we are contacted, summon me immediately. Otherwise, wait for orders."

They saluted me smartly, but I could see the confusion and unhappiness in their eyes as I turned away. A pair of bodyguards flanked me as I left through the opposite bridge door. I kept my eyes high, my mind blank. What was there to do?

I still could not prevent myself from seeing the bodies, Vortian and Irken alike, littering the hallway, many still locked in the embrace of combat. The Irkens who had given their lives to protect their Tallest and their Empire. What were the Vortians here for? What was worth this? When a small rodent sees a feline, it dashes in the opposite direction. It doesn't charge the predator, and it certainly doesn't escape unscathed with one of its eyes. What had possessed them to turn on their allies? How had they managed to win?

Reaching the door of our shared living quarters (Were they mine now?), I waved my bodyguards away. They took positions a few feet away, on either side of the door. I raised an eye at their subtle insistence, but nodded. One Tallest was gone. They would not be so quick to let the second out of their sight.

"I will be out directly," I told them. "I'm going to clean up." That much was obvious. My shoulders, neck, and a good portion of my back were covered in Vortian blood. They both nodded as one. "Both of you are free to see healers if you need them." They shook their heads.

"Thank you, my Tallest."

Were they two Irkens or one? I left them there in the hall as I entered my rooms. It was not worth pondering.

Our rooms were comfortable, and large. They had to be, we spent nearly half an average year on board. I drew my eyes away from the large red and purple divide down the middle of our sleeping chamber and went over to the clothing chute, stripping off my shoulder guards and the upper part of my robes before throwing them down. There were some cleaning wipes above Red's bed; I pulled them down and wiped the blood off of my skin before tossing that too and retreating into my closet. I grabbed something new to wear without even really looking at it: its not like I owned anything that would clash. There _was_ the morning we had a really early meeting and I ended up in clothes from Red's closet instead... A shriek from him as I left the room was about all I could remember of the incident. That and he shoved me back into the apartment and into my own closet to find something to change into before anyone could have seen me.

But no matter…don't think about that. I flipped the switch on my back to deactivate my hoverbelt. Just now, I didn't feel like floating. I crossed the apartment to our weapons cache, and pulled out my favorite spear. Setting it into a spin with my fingers, I brought it around my shoulders and back to my front, before setting into a stabbing and dodging pattern of moves that was part of one of my regular warm-ups. As I thrust the weapon, I tried to push my tormented thoughts from my brain with it.

It's not like there had ever been two Tallest before. What was the procedure when one was lost, kidnapped, hurt? If he died, it would just be me. Another Irken was unlikely to have a growth spurt and come to my level. I stopped short, bringing my spear down beside me. What was my duty as Tallest? Besides the having fun, the snacking, the doing whatever we…whatever _I_ wanted…I was supposed to lead the Empire. We were supposed to. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Nothing like this ever happened. Tallest weren't supposed to have to make these kinds of decisions. And I wasn't supposed to have to make them alone.

Decisions! The control brains! Of course! They were the ones who made decisions. They could help me figure out how to get Red back, and how to deal with the Vortians. It was that simple. I darted over to my console, staff still in hand, and used the identifier plug from my pak to call the control brains. I fidgeted impatiently as I waited for the call to go through; thank goodness our communications were still online.

"…Almighty Tallest Purple. Why have you contacted us and interrupted our work for the Empire?"

They were in a bad mood, clearly. Did they know already?

"Almighty Tallest Red has been captured, sirs. I come to you seeking advice."

"Captured?!" The control brains rarely had anything resembling strong emotions in their voices, but this sounded as close to shock as they had ever been. I felt them accessing that particular memory in my storage banks, and allowed it.

"He has been taken aboard their flagship." It wasn't a question.

"You did not fire upon the craft that captured him?"

"No, sirs."

"You allowed him to be taken into enemy hands,"

"There was no way to safely retrieve the ship he was on, sir."

"He is a liability to the Empire. He is now a weapon they can use against us. You must destroy the flagship before they are able to find some use for him."

I dropped my spear. It made a loud hiss as the blade took the corner off of my metal desk.

"D-destroy the flagship? But…but he's on board, that will kill him!"

"You are the Tallest. Your are to do what is best for the Empire."

"But – "

"The Empire will not falter if one of the two Tallest expires. You shall carry on in his place, and take vengeance against the Vortians. Such an act will keep the Empire unified and strong."

Before I could speak again, the communication was cut.

Kill Red? Then I really _would_ be alone…

_You are to do what is best for the Empire._

I stood up and looked over at his bed. Laying there was a puppet made to look like him. I picked it up and worked the punching gloves he had begged me to help him work out.

"_Come on, Pur! It's better if it punches!"_

"_I've never seen a puppet punch before,"_

"_So we'll make one!"_

"…_Okay!"_

"Red…" I felt the word drift out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"_So we're Tallest now! You know what that means?"_

"_No, what?"_

"_It means we get to do whatever we want! No more teachers, no more generals, no more control brains, even! It's our turn to call the shots!"_

"_I'm not sure I'll know what shots to call, Red."_

"_Sure you will. We're the Tallest! That means whatever we decide to do is the best thing, and everybody will listen."_

"_Can we make decisions together?"_

"_What did you think? Of course we'll make them together! We'll always make them together. That's what's going to make us better Tallest than Spork and Miyuki combined!"_

"…_Let's make our first order for the cooks to make five hundred donuts!"_

"_Yeah! Donuts! Wait, five hundred? Can we eat that many?"_

"_No, but we can give them to everybody else when we're done, and they'll know how cool we are!"_

"_Yeah! Let's do it!"_

I threw the doll onto his bed. It was then that I realized I was blinking back tears. I dragged my sleeve over my face, wiping them out of the way. Tears were for weaklings like Skoodge, not for a Tallest. I had to pull myself together before I went back to the bridge.

Holding my spear seemed to help my nerves somewhat, I noticed. Picking it up, I left the apartment and strode back down the hallway. I didn't even notice my bodyguards had fallen into step behind me until one of them stepped forward to pull the door manually open so I could reach the bridge. It certainly looked clean. How long had I been in my room? Technicians, advisors, bodyguards, all stopped what they were doing immediately to look at me.

I walked over to my chair and sat down in it, leaning my spear against the arm. I scanned the room, looking for the gunner in charge by way of their seating arrangements. After a moment, I found the Irken I was looking for and pointed to her.

"You! What's your name?"

She looked surprised, but saluted smartly and said, "Quin, my Tallest!" without a waver in her voice.

"Quin! Are our guns operational?"

"Sir, the main planetary gun is operational, as are our secondary guns, but we have lost two turrets on the lower side near the hanger."

I nodded, and turned to one of my advisors. "Plok, how many Irken Elite do we have on board the Massive currently?"

The advisor checked his portable console. "Eighteen, my Tallest. Three squads. One Invader-Class, two Field-Class."

"Are any of them injured?"

"No, my Tallest."

"Order them to the bridge immediately."

As I heard my orders being repeated and relayed around the bridge, I lowered my head as I formulated my plan of attack. I could do no more than plan until I waited for my Elites to arrive. Red might have had the advantage when it came to spacecraft and flashy lasers, but it was time I showed them some tricks of my own. Then the Vortians would know the grave mistake they had made.

-This is a divider too :D -

Thanks for your patience! As always, reviews are welcome, and to be honest, some encouragement from the sidelines might help me keep my speed up (I wrote ¾ of this in one evening!)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Zim is not mine. Actually, he doesn't even appear here, so the Tallest are not mine. Most things are not mine. And if Invader Zim were mine, it would be going in to Season eight or something by now, so clearly the characters appearing here are not mine, and I make no monies off of them.

Author's notes: Awesome! It's now been over two years since I updated, and I sincerely apologize for that. I suppose none of you will believe me when I say I'm already working on Chapter 4 unless I actually update again this calendar year? I've graduated and am taking the summer off before I take the vow of poverty to become a graduate student, and I'm catching up on my writing. I hope to finish this before the end of the summer.

Thanks so much to those of you who put me on your watched fics list, and those who review. Sending those little messages into my inbox is a great way to both fill me with boundless joy and to guilt me into updating sooner. Hopefully Chapter 4 will be up within the week.

-DIVIDER!-

I spent the entire flight in a state of tension, waiting any moment for the inevitable end. I actually activated the emergency preservation measures in my pak, one of the few things I could control without them noticing. Spider legs or remote communicators wouldn't be any good in a small transport ship with a Vortian gun against my life support system and four more pointed at my head. They were the old-fashioned kind of guns, the ones that shot metal projectiles. My pak could possibly withstand a laser blast with its upgraded heat defenses I had installed, but not a lump of metal cutting through half its circuitry.

No matter. Once I was finished imitating the preservation sequence, my pak would remain intact even after I was dead. Perhaps if it drifted through a star it might incinerate, but it would withstand Irken laser fire, and when Purple ordered this ship destroyed it could be retrieved and my memories recovered. I had come up with quite a few weapon modifications and ship maneuvers that should be entered into the main database of Irken knowledge. So at least it wasn't a total waste. But I wished that Purple didn't have to go on alone.

Except we were still moving. We were almost at the flagship. I chanced moving my head a fraction of an inch, chancing the fact that they might shoot me, to see my beloved Massive drifting further and further away. Almost out of laser range. _What was taking him so long?_

"Surprised, Irken Tallest?" That was the Vortian who had grabbed my Pak, now pointing his gun at it. I still hadn't gotten a good look at his face yet. "We picked you for a reason. And it appears you are sorely mistaken if you expect your…_colleague_ to do the honorable thing."

I chose not to respond. The jab at Purple hurt more than they would if they were directed at me. He didn't like being alone, he never liked being alone. But this was the wrong decision. The fact that these Vortians had played us so well, so perfectly, was sickening. But what were they going to do with me? Even if Purple had to go by himself, the Control Brains could still help. The Irken Empire would not crumble just because a Tallest was killed. It had gone on before.

When arms dragged me up and pushed me forwards, I was surprised. Clearly I had been too deep in thought to notice our docking. "Move, Irken Tallest," came the voice behind me. Not that I had much of a choice. I moved. Down the loading platform, across a hanger, into a high-speed elevator. Out of that elevator, down a corridor, then into another elevator. It was crowded in there with six Vortians, at least one of whom smelled very bad, and one Tallest who was not the correct height for this type of transport and needed to remain in a bent over position so his Almighty Antennae did not snag on the light fixture.

Finally, I was shoved unceremoniously out onto the bridge. As guards swarmed around me and shacked me, the voice behind me cried out gleefully, "We have him, Father!"

The ship commander's chair arm turned, revealing the reclining form of Lard Punt. Of course it would be him. Too many demands from that one. Always demanding more from our partnership than he and the rest of the Vortian slime were worth. Now that I was shackled and no one was grabbing my pak anymore, I could look at the speaker. And of course it would be Lard Nar, beaming like a little smeet with his first grenade at trying to impress the Vortian who helped spawn him. One would think he could grow up.

The chair swept down and came to a rest high off the ground so Lard Punt and I were at eye level. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Almighty Tallest Red himself. We are honored by your presence," he simpered, clearly pleased with himself.

"Had to hide behind false signals and decoy ships to accomplish your goals, Lard Punt? And I have to ask, what _are_ those exactly? You and I know perfectly well that the empire is perfectly capable of going on without me."

"Oh perhaps," he agreed. "But that's not what we're after. Your precious empire may be able to exist without you, but that doesn't mean it wants too. Too long have you Irkens deluded yourself with the idea that you are the superior species in this universe. You feed off of our technology like parasites. It is time for us to take back the empire that is rightfully ours! And when the images of you, broken and bleeding, are broadcasted throughout your empire, who do you think they will listen too? Your army is only as strong as your top. Your soldiers only care for themselves. Once one of you crumbles, what will they think? 'My Almighty Tallest was captured and killed, I might be too! I should join the Vortians to protect myself!' And once you have been exhausted of your…usefulness, all of top-secret passwords, plans, tactics that are encoded in that oh-so-advanced pak of yours will lead us right through the front door. It will be much, much simpler than you may think." A smile was tracing his lips, a devious one.

There wasn't anything I could say to that. My brainmeats were spinning too furiously to come up with any decent response that wouldn't just make me look worse. He could be right. I knew it. No one had ever thought to challenge the morale of our troops before. What if our structure _was _that fragile? What if the entire happiness of the empire was based on our people looking up to us, seeing our power, hoping one day to be tall too? We were happy being in charge and pampered. If they saw…no. I couldn't let myself be used like that.

Silently I began activating my self-destruct sequence. It would take a moment to come out of preservation mode. My pak would be lost to all time but at least my image and my knowledge wouldn't be used against my people. Only in my panic, I forgot about the confirmation beacon. The one that sent an end-of-life report to the Control Brains before the soldier finished activating the sequence. The one that's audio and visual cue was kept on to keep track of the general populace, but was turned off in Irken Elite, who were supposed to have enough intelligence to make proper decisions about such things. The one that was not re-silenced when I had the upgrades done to my pak several months ago.

No sooner had the signal gone off, when Lard Nar screeched, "THE SELF-DESTRUCT! STOP HIM!" _Sweet Irk I hate that screech_, I managed to think to myself before four guards were on me. I fought, trying to keep concentration enough to finish the sequence, but the connections were bad. I punched and kicked as best I could being shackled, which was to say not much at all, although I did manage to bite someone and I felt one of my armored wrist guards collide with someone's gut, causing him to make a satisfying choking sound. The connections were getting worse. Then, a searing pain in my back. A hazy red film obscured my vision and I saw numbers. 10:00. 9:59. 9:58. 9.57. I whirled my head around. My pak. They had my pak. In panic, I reached for it. The shackles caught me of course, and I stumbled, watching Lard Nar, holding my precious pak, step further away, out of my reach. Was I going to die on their terms after all?

Suddenly a communications tech from further down the bridge called out, "Commander! The Massive is hailing us!"

I'm not sure if I was more shocked or if the Vortians were. A call from the Massive could only mean Purple, and I don't think he'd ever initiated a call in his life. And so soon after all of this. Even with my lifeclock beeping down in my head, I was scared for him. Scared that he would have to rule alone. Scared that if this call didn't go quickly, he would see me die.

Lard Punt shifted his chair back over to face the viewscreen. "Answer," he commanded.

Purple popped into full view on the screen. To my immense shock, he seemed relaxed. He was reclining in his favorite chair that he used when we were playing Tactics barely an hour beforehand. I recognized the grip of his favorite spear just peeking from the outside of the frame, resting in what had to be my chair. What was that doing there?

"Lard Punt," he said coolly, not bothering to raise a hand in greeting. "What a treat to see who is behind this little demonstration."

Something in that tone I recognized. Before we had really started spending time together, a bulky smeet of about his height had tried to knock him down and take his lunch, or, more critically, his curly fries. Purple had told him to mind his place, very quietly. When the bully persisted, he punched him. Repeatedly. To the point that they both received punishment, though know knowing what I do about the smeet schooling process, Purple also got a merit on his record, and was flagged as having leadership potential. That was how it was. I lost my temper like a roaring volcano, spewing at anyone and anything that got in my way. He froze over. Completely. And if he had gone off to our (now his?) room to practice spearwork to calm himself like I was betting he had, then this was colder than I had ever seen him. To be honest, it scared me a little bit.

"Tallest Purple," Lard Punt was replying, voice all oil. "To what do we owe this distinct pleasure?'

"I'm satisfying my curiosity," he said, smiling. "You see, the Massive isn't usually attacked. So naturally I'd like to know why before I do anything… _rash._ But first, may I see my co-ruler?"

"And why, pray tell, should we show you our hostage?" Lard Punt inquired. The façade of politeness was quickly fading.

"I would expect that you took him to attract our attention," Purple was studying his fingers as he spoke, still keeping his cool. "If you want to continue talking and perhaps enlighten me with whatever manifesto you have come up with this time, I will need to see him in order for you to_ keep_ my attention. I have rather pressing matters to attend to if you no longer wish to speak with me. You left a very large hole in my ship."

Lard Punt was vain. Torturing me and broadcasting the videos to all of civilized space was one thing. But to show his success off in front of my co-ruler was too grand an opportunity to pass up, I suppose. He jerked his head forward and I was pushed into the view of the camera, next to his command chair. By this point I was starting to feel a bit lightheaded and it was difficult to keep my eyes focused. Five minutes left.

I could see Purple's calmness waver at the sight of me, ever so slightly. All this time ruling with him and I knew his body language better than my own blasters. _Keep calm,_ I wished, _don't let him win._

I should have expected him to be able to read me just as well, for all the attempts I was making to look normal. One of his eyes squinted, just slightly. "Indulge me, will you? Spin him around." he said softly, eyes not leaving my face.

"And why would we do that?" snapped Lard Punt.

"To make sure he is unharmed. To convince me that you are serious about keeping him as your hostage."

The commander nodded, and I felt myself jerked around by the shoulders. I actually heard the gasps from the other Irkens on the bridge as my pak-lass back came into view. When I was facing the screen again, Purple's attention was diverted, silencing the technicians with a few waves of his hand.

Still ignoring the Vortians, he said, "Quin, prepare the main planetary gun for fire. Lock onto the flagship."

I heard the "Sir!" from offscreen. Then, the warning beepers on the bridge indicating a ship had achieved a target lock. A separate viewscreen showed the long rectangular lens in front of the ship begin to glow as it charged power.

"You're bluffing," Lard Punt cried, and I could see him starting to shake.

"I'm afraid I'm not," Purple replied. "You see, I have been generous. I allowed you to finish your little hostage scenario. I gave you ample time to prepare before contacting you. I have given you the chance to explain yourself. I was willing to talk. But the fact of the matter is you are not serious. Tallest Red is missing his pak, giving him anywhere between ten and one minute to live, depending on how long ago you did it. With him dead, the existence of your ship is no longer my concern. Ou planetary gun will destroy you much more completely than the old-fashioned way, I think, and from a further range. I haven't gotten the chance to play with it myself yet." And by Zim's shortness he was actually smiling!

The Vortians babbled. Half of them were staring at the estimate readouts for how long they had until that massive laser, the one they themselves had designed, would fire. The other half was staring at Lard Punt, wondering if their commander would do something.

A long tense minute passed, and I felt my knees beginning to weaken. Suddenly, "Allow him his pak! We will continue discussions, just please hold your fire!"

I felt the cool, live-giving metal of my pak against my back, and what a wonderful feeling to link up to it again, feel the strength going back into my body. I could see now that Lard Punt looked terrified. The Massive was still preparing fire. Then Purple looked at me. "Is it intact? You linked properly?"

I nodded my head yes, though inwardly I was gaping like an idiot. This morning I would have said Tallest Spork would come back from the dead and tap-dance across the bridge before Purple would be threatening anyone with a laser, yet alone the biggest laser in the entire empire.

Several long, tense beats. Then he gave a wave of his arm, and the weapon began powering down. A large, collective sigh of relief echoed around the Vortian bridge. Despite still being uncertain about where this entire exchange was going, terrified for my Empire's future, and frustrated that Purple's continued presence in the call meant that I couldn't self-destruct (I couldn't do it in front of him, never), I had to appreciate the overall craziness of the situation. The Vortians were the ones with the hostage, and Purple was the one doing the threatening. What a fool Lard Punt was, thinking we weren't the superior species. It reminded me of when Tallest Miyuki had talked them into designing the Massive for her. Granted, what Purple was doing now could hardly be called friendly negotiations, but it had the same feel. The same quietness, compounded by the strangeness of watching Purple say more words at once in a position of authority than I had ever heard him deliver by himself in our reign as Tallest.

They were talking again. I dragged myself out of my thoughts to listen.

"…and furthermore, you will surrender the Massive!" Lard Punt was saying. Apparently he had been in the middle of making demands.

"And why, pray tell, would I agree to _any_ of this?" Purple's eye was twitching. For all he might be struggling to keep calm for the sake of the Empire, Lard Punt's behavior was clearly getting to him just as much as he was me.

"You will agree, Tallest Purple, because we have demonstrated that your grand Irken Empire is a farce. You are unable to protect even those who are highest up in your government. You claim Vortian technology and terrorize us with it. And for that we will make an example out of Tallest Red, here. Perhaps a few video feeds of our treatment of him in our interrogation rooms will convince your people that they are not quite the grand, glorious beings you are."

"Or," he continued, after a pause to let it all sink in. "You can acknowledge our empire as independent and superior and we will be happy to return your leader to you."

I could have killed him. I would have, had I not been restrained. He wasn't close enough for me to impale him with a spider leg, I calculated the distance. Purple was the leader too and it was an insult to imply I ruled him, too. I wasn't sure what he thought he was accomplishing, but staying in contact was just making things worse. Why was he listening? Why was he not killing them at the first demands he made, securing his admiration as a strong leader in the eyes of our people? My life was not worth the crumbling of everything we had worked so hard to achieve.

He was leaning forward in his seat, eyes enraged slits, opening his mouth for a response when we all felt an impact. It was slight, I was guessing off of the bottom of the hull somewhere. We all turned to the pilot, expecting some sort of explanation.

"An asteroid perhaps, sir?" he said meekly to Lard Punt. I would have thrown him out of the airlock for reporting so poorly. "There is a small belt nearby."

"Send a squad down to check for damage. I'll not have this ship beaten to pieces while we stand about talking. Tallest Purple, clearly you are not interested in taking our kind offer. We will be leaving you now, and rest assured we will welcome any further inquiries as to Tallest Red's safety. We'll even be happy to let you negotiate for what's left of him."

Leaving the link open, I suppose to see Purple's horrified face, he commanded the navigator to set coordinates for Vort and prepare to set forward at maximum speed. Clearly these so-called negotiations were finished.

-DIVIDER! -

Again, thanks for your patience! I'm a bit concerned about the pacing and dialogue in this particular chapter. It felt a bit awkward to write, possibly because it's difficult to decide whose point of view to use when. In most of the chapters it's obvious where the action/drama is and therefore where to put the point of view, but in this section of the story it's complicated, because I want to give the reader initially the same sense of confusion of what's going on that Red has. Hopefully I've accomplished this. Constructive feedback is appreciated, as well as any reviews that let me know a few of you are still out there! See you again soon!


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